


In my arms

by Lizzyboo



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, a tiny bit of angst, tiny bit of pre smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 01:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16652137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzyboo/pseuds/Lizzyboo
Summary: '“Why did you get up so early?” Dan asks, and he knows that his voice sounds a little accusing but he’s still tired and he’s still worried and saying “please don’t ever go anywhere when I’m not right there to follow you,” seems a little too much as a response to a morning shower.'(it's the day after phil went to the hospital, and dan just wants to take care of him a little)





	In my arms

**Author's Note:**

> this is dedicated to my dear friend @quercussp, i hope it's as fluffy as you wanted it to be honey!

Dan wakes up on Monday morning to an empty bed and a sick feeling in his stomach. The room is uncomfortably warm (Dan remembers Phil feeling slightly chilly the night before, and his own panicked overreaction that made him turn on the heat higher than they usually would, instead of just getting another blanket, despite Phil’s protests). 

In his half asleep state, Dan notices that the light coming in from the window is faint, keeping the quiet room dim, almost dark, but as that doesn’t really mean anything at this time of year he picks up his phone from the nightstand and checks the time, squinting against the sudden bright light. 8:30 AM, he reads. Too early to wake up when they haven’t set an alarm to force them out of bed, he thinks. And definitely too early for Phil to be awake and functioning when he’s on bed rest (doctor’s orders, of course, but it’s not like Phil is one to pass on an opportunity to stay in bed and get babied when he’s under the weather, even without an open invitation). 

Dan’s uncomfortable sick feeling intensifies for a moment, making him close his eyes and take a deep breath to calm himself down. His mind is showing him horrible pictures from yesterday morning. Pictures of a pale, weak looking Phil lying on the floor and calling for him with a panicked voice. The pictures are, truthfully, a lot more dramatic than the reality actually was at that moment, but he’s allowed, he thinks, to be a little dramatic about this. No one, he reasons with himself, can really blame him for that, he’s sure. 

He can feel his body relaxes a bit when he starts hearing the sounds of running water, meaning that Phil is most definitely taking a shower. (He tries to push back the instant, new images that make their way to his mind. Images of the same pale, weak looking Phil, only this time he has a stream of water covering his body while he lies still on the shower floor). 

He pushes himself up from bed all at once at that, a bit too fast, making himself dizzy for a second but not wasting time to compose himself, making his way to the bathroom where he hears the water coming from. 

He’s fine, he tells himself. He’s okay.

Good enough to get up and go upstairs and start the shower, he keeps reassuring his mind. In addition, before they went to bed, Dan made him swear to wake him up if he feels so much as an uncomfortable tingle on the tip of his nose, so he knows, for sure, that at least for now, Phil is okay. 

That doesn’t stop the overwhelming wave of relief from washing through his body when he hears Phil’s voice say, “yes?” after Dan knocks on the door, probably a little too urgently for 8 am.  
Dan is only in his boxers, so it doesn’t take him long to get in the room and chuck them off to the side, getting into the shower and under the stream of warm water.

Phil welcomes him silently, by turning his back to his front and leaning into him, pressing his head back into Dan’s shoulder and letting out a sigh. 

After 9 years, Dan likes to think that he’s pretty fluent in Phil language. He takes pride in it and gets a strong, possessive kind of satisfaction in knowing that no one can understand that language quite as well as him. He even brags about it from time to time, when he has a glass too many of a nice wine at the Lester house, encouraged by a teasing Martyn and laughed at fondly by the Lester parents, usually while being shushed by a pink looking Phil. 

And this, as far as reading Phil goes, is as easy as it gets. It screams ‘hold me tight and don’t let me go until we can’t possibly stand under this stream of water anymore,’ and Dan has no intention to refuse. 

He wraps his arms around Phil’s waist, fingers skimming over a soft stomach, head resting on a bony shoulder (gently, careful not to put too much weight on Phil, who suddenly feels more delicate than usual in his arms).

Phil smells like nothing in particular right now. A little of his fruity soap, a little of Dan’s shampoo, but no distinguish smell like he had the day before. No sanitizers and disinfectants and the nauseating, stale smell of a hospital room. He presses his nose to his wet shoulder and just breathes him in, feeling Phil’s long fingers coming up to rest above his, squeezing his hand. 

“Why did you get up so early?” Dan asks, and he knows that his voice sounds a little accusing but he’s still tired and he’s still worried and saying “please don’t ever go anywhere when I’m not right there to follow you,” seems a little too much as a response to a morning shower.

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” Phil says. His eyes are closed and his mouth is slack and he looks just fine, but Dan’s stomach still does a little unpleasant flip inside his body. 

“Is it your head again?” Dan asks, and he tries to sound casual, because as much as he worries he knows how easily Phil’s hypochondriac mind gets wound up by his reactions, always has. He learned to control himself, over the years. Sometimes, when Phil needs it, he can be the calm one, the grounding one. Sometimes, when Phil needs it, he can to be whatever Phil wants him to be. 

Phil shakes his head against Dan’s shoulder, and he turns his face a little to place a kiss on Dan’s jaw, letting his lips linger. Phil hasn’t shaved yet, so the kiss feels a little scratchy on Dan’s skin. It’s a simple gesture of affection, familiar sensation, but today it makes Dan hold him even tighter against himself. Makes his chest feel even tighter as well. 

“It’s my dick,” Phil says, and he moves Dan’s hand down on his body, until he gets to Phil’s semi hard on. He didn’t even notice. “Had another Chris Hemsworth dream, but this one was weird even for me,” he turns around in Dan’s arms, wrapping his own around his shoulders, gliding them down Dan’s wet back and burying his head in the crook of Dan’s neck. He kisses him there softly, starting to push his hips slowly against Dan’s thigh. “Didn’t want to wake you so I thought I’ll take care of it myself.”

He’s still tired, and he’s still poorly, Dan can tell. He’s leaning most of his weight on Dan’s body and his lips against his neck are barely there, lacking energy and enthusiasm. 

“You should have woke me up,” Dan reprimands, but he does it softly, kissing the side of Phil’s head right after so that Phil knows it’s okay, it’s fine, he just wants to be with him right now, he just doesn’t want to let him out of his sight.

“Well, you’re here now,” Phil says, and he speeds up his movements a little, pressing closer to Dan’s body. 

Dan’s hands are griping Phil’s sides harder, keeping him steady, keeping him from leaning away. Keeping him safe from falling down ever again. “Yes,” he says, kissing Phil’s head again, “I am.” 

 

****************************

It doesn’t take a lot for Phil to agree to lie down on the couch while Dan makes them breakfast. As Dan suspected, Phil is still not in the best shape, and after one shower and one orgasm he doesn’t have much energy to do much else other than finally get the rest he needs. 

“What do you want to eat?” Dan asks. He’s leaning over Phil’s blanket covered body, pushing his hair back from his face. They both know he’s checking his temperature, but both are willing to pretend it’s just an affectionate gesture. Usually, Phil can get quite stubborn about that, especially when he says he’s fine, but today neither of them has the energy or the desire to bicker and get annoyed, so Phil lets Dan check, and Dan lets Phil nuzzle into his hand even after he’s done checking. 

“Toast?” Phil says, and there’s a small, mischievous smirk at the corner of his mouth, but it makes Dan’s stomach feel funny again nonetheless. 

“Don’t joke about that,” he says, moving his hand away. 

Phil looks up at him. He looks a little surprised, as if he genuinely thought Dan would find it funny. It makes Dan feel guilty, somehow, because he knows Phil wants the feeling of normalcy right now and he wants to give it to him. But seeing Phil on the floor at 5 AM, feeling lost and not knowing what to do when instead of wanting to go to the hospital Phil started giving him specific food requests, well, that wasn’t a funny reminder to him. At least not yet. 

“What, are you the only one allowed to joke about this?” Phil asks, but he doesn’t sound annoyed, he sounds curious and a little worried but mostly he still sounds really, really tired. 

Dan leans down, kissing Phil’s forehead and then his lips. Phil’s lips are pliant under his, not kissing back much but just letting himself be kissed, but Dan isn’t surprised when he’s still trying to chase after him when he pulls away and straightens back up, letting out a small noise of protest. Phil really likes to be kissed like that, sometimes, when he needs to feel taken care of. 

“I’ll make you pancakes,” Dan says, matter of fact. “American Pancakes,” he adds, watching the way Phil’s eyes sparkle at his words. 

Phil sneaks his hand from under the blanket, taking hold of Dan’s and pulling it to his face, pressing his lips one, two, three times right to the center of his palm, fingers rubbing circles against his wrist. 

“I love you,” he says. And even thought Dan wants to say something sarcastic about Phil loving him only for his willingness to make pancakes, it just doesn’t feel right at that moment. 

“I love you too,” he says instead. “So much,” he adds. Because sometimes, he thinks, it needs to be said.  
And judging by the way Phil looks at him after, all soft and warm and happy, sometimes, it needs to be heard as well. 

*****************************

 

Dan’s been trapped sitting on the sofa for the last hour, staring absentmindedly at the great British bake off reruns playing on their TV. 

Phil is sleeping on his lap, his face pressed to Dan’s stomach, snoring softly, one hand clenching Dan’s thigh. 

He lost all feeling in his left leg at this point, and he stupidly left his laptop in the bedroom, so really, he can’t complain when his phone suddenly starts vibrating in his pocket, making him carefully shift Phil to a pillow so he could get up to get the call (Phil makes a small protest sound, but a simple “shh,” from Dan and a pet on the head is enough to soothe him back to sleep.) 

He’s not surprised when he sees who’s calling him. 

“Hello?” Dan answers when he’s out if the room, still trying to keep his voice down. Phil is a heavy sleeper, but for some reason it feels more appropriate like this. 

“Hello dear,” he hears Kath’s warm voice say, “How are you boys doing today?” she asks. 

Dan called Phil’s parents the day before, despite Phil’s protests that they should wait until they actually know what’s wrong. “They are going to see twitter anyway,” Dan reasoned, to which Phil had nothing to say. It’s better to tweet about it, they’ve decided, before someone else beats them to it. ‘Dan and Phil were spotted at the hospital’ sounds much worse coming from someone else’s mouth than it is from theirs. 

“We’re okay, better,” Dan says. “He’s sleeping now.” 

Dan makes his way to the kitchen, too restless to stay still. 

“Did the hospital call?” she asks. She sounds calm now, collected, but yesterday her voice was worried and tight even though Phil reassured her multiple times he was feeling a lot better. 

“Not yet. They said it could take up to 3 days until they can do an MRI.” He puts the kettle on without even noticing, takes out two mugs from the cupboard automatically. 

“He’s going to be okay,” she says, and he’s not sure who she’s trying to reassure, him or herself. “He’s a strong lad, takes after his mother,” she says, and Dan’s lips stretch into a smile. 

“He sure does,” he says, pouring himself a cup of tea, green, no sugar. 

“But even so, keep an eye on him, okay?” she says. “I know I don’t need to ask, but a mother never stops worrying about her babies, even when they have someone else to take care of them.” 

Dan stops himself then, noticing that he’s about to make Phil’s usual afternoon coffee for him. Milk and two sugars. He wants to laugh. Taking care of Phil has become such a second nature to him, a habit, he’s doing it even when he really doesn’t intend to. And he hopes, selfishly, that he’ll get to keep doing it for a long long time. (He would have said forever, if he was like Phil. But he’s not, so he’ll settle for another 80 years or so, at least). 

“Won’t let my eyes off of him for a second,” he says, and suddenly he really wants to end their conversation and make good on his words. 

“I know you won’t,” she says, and she sounds warm and fond and Dan has a weird feeling like he should thank her. For trusting him. For letting him take care of her son. For taking care of him so well all those years before Dan was in the picture. For taking care of him for some of the years he already was but wasn’t able to do everything that he wish he could at the time. 

He doesn’t say it though. He doesn’t want to get all weird and emotional for no good reason, and besides, he knows that she knows. He knows by the way she welcomes him into her family and by the way she hugs him when they see each other and by the way she calls his number instead of Phil’s from time to time to ask after their wellbeing. She knows how grateful he is. Sometimes, things need to be said. But other times, it’s also okay to leave them implied, he thinks. 

 

They finish their conversation after that, saying their goodbyes, and Dan promises to update her the moment he knows anything. 

He ends up not drinking his tea, making his way back to the lounge and finding it empty. 

He doesn’t feel quite as panicked as he did in the morning, but the feeling of not knowing where Phil is is still an uncomfortable one, and he doesn’t fully relax until he steps into their bedroom, finding Phil curled under the covers, phone in hand. 

Phil turns his head to him for a moment before flopping back down on his pillow, putting his phone aside and taking his glasses off. That’s Phil for ‘come cuddle me now, please,’ Dan knows quite well, and he wastes no time to oblige. 

“Who were you talking to?” Phil asks while Dan settles on the bed next to him. 

“Your mum,” Dan says, manhandling Phil to his side, back to Dan’s chest, wrapping himself around him. 

“Is that a ‘your mum’ joke?” Phil asks, and Dan buries his face in the back of Phil’s neck, letting out a loud laugh. 

“No, it was your actual mother, the woman who gave birth to you and had to raise you even though you were a demon child,” he says, and he feels Phil reach behind him to try and give Dan a slap on the thigh, but it feels more like an affectionate pat and it makes Phil’s body press closer to his front, so he’s really not complaining. 

“Was she worried?” Phil asks. Phil hates making his mum worry, even more than he hates making Dan worry. 

“She was,” he says, kissing the back of Phil’s head. Phil wiggles a bit, wrapping his own arms around Dan’s. “But it’s okay,” he adds, squeezing Phil a little harder. “She knows you’re in good hands.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i didn't have time to write recently, but i had such a good time writing this! hope you liked it ^.^  
> please let me know what you thought!! <3


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